


Spellbound

by xanderdaqueer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Arthur tops, Author kind of sucks at endings, England is a wizard, France/England is main ship here everything else is just mentions, Francis is desperate, Grinding, Have I mentioned it's smut, Human & Country Names Used, It's some fuckin Hetalia shit to set it up and then it's just straight up porn, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Porn, Smut, Strong Language, mild mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:05:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanderdaqueer/pseuds/xanderdaqueer
Summary: Arthur is fed up with Francis's constant teasing and decides to try out a spell on him to get him to shut up finally.





	Spellbound

  Arthur Kirkland licked his lips, his wand hidden snugly within his suit jacket as he entered the World Meeting with a sense of purpose to his steps. He barely hid a smirk as he caught the sight of the personification of France, Francis Bonnefoy, chatting idly with Matthew.

    The personification of England had it all planned out. Francis would bicker and argue with him throughout the meeting, and then, after the meeting was over, the Englishman would seek revenge on his century-old enemy… and crush.

    Yes, yes. The stiff gentleman had a crush, a rather large one, in fact, on the rather good-looking Frenchman… and today was the day that England was going to get him back for all their arguments in the past. And he had a feeling that the both of them were going to love it.

    “Ohonhonhonhon~ Why are you smiling, Angleterre? Been chatting with your imaginary friends, oui?”

    Arthur jerked out of his little trance and whipped around to glare at Francis. “None of your business, you wanker! And for your information, Flying Mint Bunny and the rest of my friends are very much real!”

    “You are so adorable when you talk about your little friends, ohonhon~ I just want to eat you up sometimes~” came the incredibly out of character response.

    “E-Eh?! Bloody hell, Francis, are you sick? Why else would you be sputtering such nonse-”

    “I only ‘ope zhat you taste better than your cooking…!”

    Of course the Frenchman turned it into an insult. Of course. Arthur sighed, willing his blush away and running a hand through his hair, opening his mouth to respond.

    He didn’t get to.

    “EVERYONE SHUT UP!”

    The loud German voice and a heavy bang on the table from the blonde’s fist brought Arthur and Francis’s attention back to the meeting at hand.

    “Ve are going to be starting zhe meeting now, und all of jou had better LISTEN UP, JA???!??”

    Everyone nodding frantically, except for Ivan, who just held a terrifying, childish smile upon his face as he laughed quietly. All countries around him panicked and backed away. All countries except for, well, Yao. The country of China simply patted his head and Russia calmed down rather quickly, wrapping his large arms around the older country to bring him into his lap.

    “Aiyah, Ivan…! Not here-” the man whispered, his face turning pink.

    “Why not? I am just cuddling you, da? A man can’t simply cuddle his boyfriend?”

    “Ve~! Germany! I want to cuddle you-a like that-a! Can’t we? Please?” The small Italian was looking up at Ludwig with stars in his eyes.

    “N-NEIN…!” responded the flustered German, his face turning very red.

    “Oi, potato bastard! You-a look like one of-a Spain’s tomatoes, ha ha!” Lovino laughed, banging his hand against the table and then stiffening as a hand ran through his hair.

    “Lovi, so do you whenever I kiss you, mi amor~” Antonio’s voice chuckled.

    “S-Shut up…! And dON’T TOUCH-A MY CURL, BASTARDO-!” South Italy responded, swatting Spain’s hand away from his hand.

    “HA HA HA HA! DUDES! YOU ALL SHOULD SETTLE DOWN!” shouted Alfred, chomping down on a burger.

    “Hai, I agree with America,” came Japan’s small, quiet voice. He yelped as Alfred’s arm went around him, but didn’t protest, much to the other’s surprise.

    Greece probably would have gotten jealous and overbearing if he hadn’t been asleep.

    Matthew’s eyebrows drew together as he quietly muttered to himself, holding Kumajiro in his arms and looking quite lonely.

    “Yo, Mattie, don’t look so sad, man! It’s totally not an awesome look on jou!”

    Canada looked up, smiling softly. “You’re here, Gilbert…!”

    “Ja, just because I’m not a country any more doesn’t mean I can’t barge in und keep jou company!” The albino’s words were laced with hidden pain. The loss of his country was incredibly difficult on him, and he hid it with jokes.

    Matthew put Kumajiro on the ground. “Sit there, Komojyra,” he said, completely butchering the bear’s name. Then he hugged Gilbert softly. The former Prussia’s shaking went completely unnoticed to all others except for Matthew, who just held him close.

    England looked at Germany, the one who was typically keeping them all on task, only to see him being pestered by Feliciano, who was trying to wrap his arms around the bigger man.

    He sighed. This was going to be a long meeting.

 

Le skip de time, ohonhonhon -

 

    Finally! Arthur stood from his seat as the countries were dismissed, followed closely by Francis. “Arthur~”

    “What, you cheeky frog??” Arthur breathed in exasperation.

    “Nothing, just wanted to get your attention~”

    Arthur whirled around, feigning intense annoyance. “You know what? I’ve had enough of your bloody teasing!”

    He could barely hold back his excitement. Now was his moment. He whipped out his wand, pointing it at Francis, who had no time to react…

    “Ineffabilis desiderii familiaritatem!”

    Francis collapsed beneath the spell, his cheeks flushing quickly and his body reacting intensely beneath the spell Arthur had just performed.

    Arthur took the Frenchman by the arm and dragged him out of the room, ignoring the awestruck stares of the other countries.

    “Ve~! Germany! What just-a happened??” Feliciano asked, looking fearful for Francis.

    “Uh… um…” Ludwig couldn’t find words to respond, and one look at the other countries told him he hadn’t been mistaken with what he had seen…

    Francis had had an unmistakable expression and appearance of lust written all over him.

    And Arthur had looked pleased.

    This was going to be interesting.

 

Back at Iggy’s house -

 

    “M-Merde, Arthur…” stuttered Francis as he was dumped onto England’s bed. “What… ‘ave you done to me…”

    “A simple aphrodisiac charm,” explained Arthur simply, standing in front of Francis with a triumphant smirk as the Frenchman squirmed and writhed under his stare.

    “Mmm…” he whimpered out, his hands undoing his buttons rather quickly.

    Arthur watched the desperate man discard his shirt to the side and run his hands over his chest in an attempt to relieve some of the lust, the deep desire. The Englishman bit his lip as the other man played with his own nipples, rubbing them softly and arching into the feeling.

    “Angleterre… ‘elp me…” Francis breathed, his other hand running down his stomach and pulling off his belt. It was killing the Frenchman to see his darling England standing in front of him, motionless, watching Francis as he touched himself in such a sensual and soon to be sexual way. He couldn’t hold back a moan, his aqua eyes closing shamefully. “Fuck, Arthur.” he hissed out as he undid the button on his pants, his cock incredibly hard and restricted against the tight pants and boxers that showed off his body.

    The pants were off before he knew it, and he was palming himself through his boxers. God, why did it have to be in front of England? Of all people, it had to be the one he was secretly lusting and loving after for years and years who he was showing himself to like this.

    The boxers were too tight. Francis whimpered, opening his eyes a bit and seeing that England was still showing no signs of helping the aroused Frenchman. He took it upon himself to remove the French flag-patterned boxers from his body, his hips thrusting up into his hand immediately, his erection thudding against his stomach.

    England inhaled sharply, his eyes becoming half-lidded. He had never seen the effects of the spell on another person, and Francis was so hard it was unbelievable. The long-haired man whimpered and moaned and mewled as he touched himself; one hand was playing with his nipples and the other stroking himself at a fast pace, unable to control himself against the effects of the spell. Arthur felt his own pants becoming a restriction at the sight, watching as Francis’s moans got louder, his hand jerking himself faster.

    “Fuck, fuck! Arthur… Arthur…” he groaned out, heat pooling in his groin. He trembled and shook. He was close already. Nothing could bring himself to stop: he was already too far over the cliff as he toppled over the edge. Wave after wave of heat coursed through him as the white liquid spurted from his cock not once, not twice, not thrice, but four times. It pooled on his stomach and on his chest, even a little on his neck.

    But the arousal wasn’t gone.

    The release had only stayed the feeling for but a moment.

    His erection was still rock-hard. It was like he hadn’t come at all.

    “What is this…?” he groaned, sobbing in desperation.

    Arthur smirked, enjoying the man’s torturous pleasure but also feeling a little bad. Just, not enough to get him to help. Yet. Though he was incredibly hard himself.

    Francis flipped over, rutting against the sheets and sucking on his fingers as he spread his legs.

    Oh. Oh. Arthur was in for a show here, and he allowed himself to undo the buttons of his own shirt, leaving it open, and unzipping his pants quietly to free his own cock. He quietly stroked it as Francis reached his fingers back, prodding at his entrance and then muffling a loud moan into England’s pillow as he inserted a finger.

    “Arthur…” he whispered. “Arthur.”

    It wasn’t enough. He inserted another finger, completely oblivious to the way the Englishman behind him was edging closer, jerking himself off. England had to be careful, he reminded himself, he couldn’t come multiple times as he wasn’t under the influence of the spell and he wanted to savor this.

    “Arthur, god! Merde, merde… fuck… OUI!” Francis sobbed in pleasure as he found the spot that made his whole body jerk. “Oui…! Yes, hmm… hah… h-hah… ah…ah, ah… ah…!”

    Francis tortured that spot, his body writhing and twisting and he came again, grinding into the sheets and his fingers as he did so.

    He was still hard.

    “You look so beautiful here, laying yourself out for me like this, love…” Arthur murmured.

    France bit his lip as he turned his head, his eyes sparkling with tears. “A-Arthur, ‘elp me… you did zhis to moi… f-fix it, I c-can’t…”

    Francis moaned, the plea slipping from his lips. His luscious, kissable, beautiful… delicious… lips…

    Arthur couldn’t hold himself back. Not anymore, not now. Their lips were crashing together like waves on a beach, building up like a tsunami. Arthur’s hands were everywhere, touching Francis, tormenting him.

    “Want me to ride you?” he asked Francis quietly.

    Francis groaned in response, but shook his head. “N-Need you in me, A-Arthur…~”

    Arthur swore under his breath, when he said it like that in that tone… it did things to him…

    The Frenchman brought his knees forward so his shapely ass was in the air, and Arthur couldn’t help but to touch it, feeling the smooth skin. Francis was so willing. He presented himself to Arthur with embarrassment, the Englishman noted as he saw how Francis hid his face in the pillow. He’d fix that. But later, later… right now, he was focused on how the country of love was essentially fucking himself upon England’s two fingers, thrusting his hips back and forth.

    “More, more…” he begged quietly into the pillow, barely audible.

    England added another finger, chuckling and scissoring them, curling them into the man’s prostate and watching as he shuddered and released with a strangled, muffled moan.

    “More, more, m-more…” he chanted into the pillow, his body trembling.

    Arthur rolled Francis over, licking his lips at the sight of the sparse hair scattered across the Frenchman’s torso, his own seed smeared across his body. England hiked up Francis’s legs, putting them on his shoulder.

    “Look at me as I enter you,” Arthur breathed.

    Francis’s arm was across his eyes, he was biting his lip. Anything, anything but look at England… please, he wouldn’t be able to, it was too much to see him do this, it was all just too much…

    “Francis~” Arthur sang, his tone dangerous. “Look at me.”

    France slowly withdrew his arm from his face, intending to glare at Arthur but instead whimpering, his gaze kept shifting away nervously.

    He tensed as Arthur touched his cheek gently.

    “Relax. I’ll fix it, darling~”

    The Frenchman watched, relaxing best he could as England aligned himself, pushing in gently.

    At the feeling, the heat that had died down a little in that moment of self-consciousness returned with vengeance, and it was at that moment when Francis threw all caution to the wind.

    “Oh, please… please, sil vou plait… oh, faster, Arthur…! Deeper, ‘s not enough!” he breathed out, his hips jerking forward.

    Arthur obliged, watching as Francis’s head fell back as he sheathed himself fully within him and began thrusting soon after.

    Delicious grunts and moans escaped Francis’s lips, getting louder at Arthur thrust in and softer as he pulled back. Arthur bit his lip, watching Francis unravel before him and come again with half-lidded eyes.

    “One more, darling, then you’ll be good,” Arthur murmured, recognizing the effects of the intense aphrodisiac charm dying down.

    He paused in his thrusting leaning forward to kiss the Frenchman deeply and receiving a kiss back that held just as much passion and fervor, and sparks flew.

    Arthur then continued thrusting once more, seeking his own release now that he knew Francis was almost fixed.

    “Mmm… hmm…” he hummed, holding back moans as Francis clenched around him in the afterglow of the previous orgasm.

    His thrusts got jerky, and he forced himself to continue watching Francis mewl and squirm in pleasure beneath him, the sight pushing him closer.

    France seemed to sense that he was close, and met his gaze, his blue orbs incredibly alluring. “Come for me, Angleterre~” he whispered.

    Arthur stayed in as he thrust forward, riding out his orgasm and throwing his head back with a loud gasp, panting as he filled the Frenchman.

    Then he pulled out, replacing his cock with three fingers and leaning down to lower his mouth around Francis’s erection and suck.

    Francis’s hips jerked up into the warm, wet heat and his face grew even redder as he heard the squelching noises of Arthur’s fingers inside him, lubed up by the Englishman’s come. He fucked Arthur’s mouth, the other man’s moans sending vibrations through him and causing him to shake and tremble and lose himself as he had his final orgasm.

    “I love you,” he breathed out as he came, feeling Arthur’s throat contract as he swallowed it all.

    And then, after reveling in the glow of his orgasm for a few moments, he panicked.

    “M-Merde!” he swore, looking up at Arthur and seeing the other’s smirk. “D-Did I just say zhat out loud?”

    “Yes, yes you did~” Arthur chuckled.

    Francis closed his eyes, his face burning. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t-”

    “I love you too,” Arthur whispered, smiling. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have chosen to seek my revenge in such a lewd way.”

    France groaned, embarrassed. “It was your fault... ! You cast zhat spell on moi and then I couldn’t ‘elp myself, especially with you right zhere and watching moi…”

    Arthur laughed, waving the protests away.

    “I know you probably want to sleep, but the sheets are soaked in your come. And you’re covered in it. Not to mention I filled you up with mine. We need to shower. I’ll start the bath and put you in it, then I’ll put the bedding in the wash, and then,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll join you in the bath. Sound good?”

    “More zhan good,” Francis yawned, sitting up and wincing.

    “No no no,” Arthur scolded, rushing to make him lay back down. “You wait here. I’ll get the bath ready then I’ll carry you.”

    “Y-You don’t ‘ave to-”

    “Oh, hush,” responded the Brit, smiling and then heading to the bathroom.

    Francis lay back down and smiled to himself. How had he gotten so incredibly lucky?

    And they ended up having a peaceful, relaxing bath… though Arthur did enjoy himself as he cleaned the results of Arthur’s release up from Francis...

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Leave a kudos or comment to let me know what you guys thought! Always feel free to message me on my Tumblr @xanderdaqueer and check out my art Instagram @artsyqueerboy !


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